In my life, there's "me" and then there's my shell.

And while the "me" part should be the most important, I gather happiness in my shell before I allow it to get to "me."

My shell holds all the things I have not yet came completely vulnerable to, as well as things that I have been vulnerable to and decided/was-pushed to re-evaluate the objectives of that/those plural noun(s).

My shell is my life. My "me" is my soul.
Though things are turning out for "me"..
My shell is looking ruff.

I know that there are places that have been worn over time in my shell.
Some of those places have let me become vulnerable to things that normally I'd learn to scold at bitterly...

I am learning to deal. "me" is growing. Learning. Shell is suffering and needs to be rebuilt. So now I'll transfer to the outside and look in. Now I will search as I can and learn from plural noun(s). I will be extremely vulnerable, but I must rebuild my shell. I must start over again.

I will still have the past. I will still reminisce, I will build slightly onto what I have learned...But I will toss my old shell. And I will make a new one that is stronger and shelters me more. I will find one that may not shine with natural beauty but can be painted over time to become interchangeable. I will sit in my filth for one more day, and then move on.

My shell is bruised but me???
I'm just dandy.

(I'm not loosing my shell to damage, I'm building a new shell for improvement.)

wanna trespass?

So it seemed a lot more complex(and maybe it even was) when it hit me, but today I realized... EVERYBODY has there own little world and they have it EVERYWHERE. (yep, I saw it in walmart..everyone feeling different you know??)

My dad was stopped by some old wrinkly people today at walmart..and they exchanged memories and thoughts about many different things, and I noticed...It really brought them back to that place and time...even to events they hadn't actually even witnessed. (of course I was observing this because to me.. these people were just my dads memories in a more wrinkly form maybe..) Every now and then I would dip my feet into there reminiscing pool.. but for the most part.. I just thought. Thought about what was going on..on the surface.

Dipping my feet in everybody's rivers, trying to understand why they were doing what they were doing... Some of the people looked like they had nothing on there minds but the product in hand, while others were involved with the person they were accompanying a bit more. I realized the reason being aware is a good thing when your in a bad mood... That's because everyone has there little town or even big world... but at the same time.. you may walk in there world (or town) sometime... and at the same time they could possibly walk in yours... and who is to say trespassing has to be bad??

If you want to run through someones field you have to know your limits, you have to hide your spray paint and you have to try love.
Jump on the bus?

Tonight.

I just want to let go. I want to rub dirt in my hair and rub my eyes with the back of my hands.

I want to stretch too much and laugh like I'm evil. I want to scream until I make myself sick and pull grass out of the earth,I'll try and attach it again. I want to rub my face in the dirt and kick rocks. I want to stand up real straight and bark back at the coyotes.

Tonight I want to let the wild out. I don't want to hold back ANYTHING. I can have the most amazing memorable Friday night...All by myself. And it's not gonna be pretty.

Tonight. I. Scream.

I want grit in my basket.

The rain is.. different, rain. Today tears have every right to take place under my eyes forming puddles on my pillow and forcing air out of my lungs as I notice I've now done it, I've now let go, and I know it's real now... But in the different rain I see mud puddles like a little, excited child with new rain boots might.

I'm not looking at the rain and thinking what a dreary day. I see lots of uncomfortable things out of the window, and I want to be a part of it. I'm not worried about the cold or my clothes. I'm not worried about what I might eat later or getting that loverly puncture in my skin to make way for that needle to pierce my vain again, I'm not worried. I just need to be a part of the rain.

I need to run and roll, not worrying about the result of it all. I need to throw mud and make a mess of myself. I need to believe no one is watching. I don't want a nice warm shower waiting for me, I don't want fleece p,j.'s folded up with there newly washed sent. I want to belong with the mud the dirt. The grit is all mine today and I want to be part of it. I want to laugh when no one can hear and scream and not have any idea. I want to wipe tears of my face with a muddy hand and touch every leaf on the tree. I want to lean against the bark and feel the texture of everything.

I'm craving texture and I'm in the need to fill my basket with something different. No more shiny crystals or nice comfy pj's, I wanna fill my basket with grit and make it look used. I want to make it mine and make no one else want it. I want to be alone with the dirt. With the texture. With the grit.

So I've been told.

That I'm a sarcastic little beast.
And
That I over-analize everything but what a average girl does.

I've been told I should put more into my human relationships,
Less into things that don't give back...
That is bull.

Relationships and giving back. ha.ha.
I don't believe that way.

God gives...nature. Nature gives off my happiness. I'll give to nature.
I'll give to God. I'll give to everyone. But I won't depend on anyone other than God who gave me nature. I apprishate that.

Dependent on the right things. So if you told me other words. Rethink.

Nah.

To be ashamed.
feeling shame. Guilt. Embarrassment. Remorse.
Circle embarrassment.

Jealous.
Thoughts. Feelings that occur. Valued relationships being threatened by a rival.
Circle Rival.

Get over it.
Circle nothing or it won't make sense.

Future

Underestimated words and a breeze that is the least bit tropical,
We're months away from the oceans and we live in the world.
Not as obvious as it used to be, not that it ever was.
I'm actually not oblivious, I notice everything that happens,
I'm only oblivious when it comes to a person. A people. You people.

I carry confidence buried just barley under skin cells,
I'm no longer far from the surface.
Sometimes like claws when we speak, you scratch, even when supporting me.
You dig, not scratch, but as you bring out my confidence, I become confused.
Though you bring it out to the surface you steel it all for yourself.

You make me sick.
You will make me well.